I just finished my junior year of college and am feeling so grateful to continue to be able to complete my education at Duke University, a place that has transformed my life in so many wonderful ways. My little brother is also graduating high school, reminding me of this time 3 years ago when I was about to start my own college adventure. While he is ending an incredibly normal high school experience to go on to an incredibly normal college experience (about which I am so happy for him), I can't help but remember how abnormal my own high school experience was and the challenge that posed to me as I entered my first year of college. Little did I know, during my first year at Duke, I would meet another cancer survivor whose writing talent would articulate the exact challenge I was facing and provide a clear thought process for how to handle it.

So, to help all those entering college, or any new situation for that matter, I wanted to share an article by Daniel Strunk. He was that very articulate cancer survivor I met my freshman year and the article was published in my school's newspaper, The Chronicle, back in August of 2012.

The article can be found here. But, I have also copied it below. I encourage you to read it if you are trying to figure out how to start a new chapter in your life when you carry such a history with you.

These are Daniel's words of wisdom about it:

When I was 14 and in the seventh grade, I was diagnosed with ALL Type B, short for acute lymphoblastic leukemia of the B blood cells. I spent three years fighting the sickness through a combination of chemotherapy, prayer and sheer will. Today I am a cancer survivor. I don’t declare this in a Chronicle column for plaudits, attention or recognition. On the contrary, it is just a part of who I am. It is a part of my identity, a part of my past from which I draw strength and define my narrative and purpose in life. Being a cancer survivor is certainly not all that I am, but it is an important part and a part of which I am certainly proud.

What do you think?

Nonetheless, when I arrived to Duke, I decided to rarely bring up this part of my past. Numerous reasons accounted for this. I did not want this fact to dominate other elements of my personality. I didn’t want to be accused of seeking attention with my story. And I worried about being seen as speaking on behalf of all childhood survivors, something that I cannot do and that would be inappropriate for me to do.

What do you think?

But the most complicated impetus behind this decision was the simple question: How do you possibly go about sharing something that is such a deep and personal part of your life? How could fellow students ever fully understand what it meant or what you went through? Dropping one’s personal story about the C-bomb is like tossing someone a huge chunk of your diary and expecting him or her to digest it on the spot. Very few are going to know why you did it, what it means to you or how to reply.

What do you think?

As the members of the Class of 2016 have arrived at Duke, many have likely gone through the standard o-week rituals. I’m sure most freshmen have answered and posed the proverbial three questions: What’s your name? What dorm are you in? Where are you from? Students across East Campus are beginning to forge their identities for the next four years. They are deciding which parts of their history to embrace, which to amend and which to bury. Many might see this as a chance to start fresh and completely abandon aspects they didn’t like before. The procrastinator becomes the planner. The nerd becomes the frat star. Identities will only further develop as the resources of this university come into play.

What do you think?

I have always been utterly true to myself, for better or worse. My friends would all say the same about me. But the one exception, at least during college, is that I have failed to embrace and share my history as a cancer survivor. Over time I have realized this choice is a mistake. The reasons for silence failed to compensate for the simple fact that surviving cancer is a fundamental part of who I am. It’s not something I should seek to avoid in conversations with others, but rather something I should seek to celebrate. Yes, it is hard to bring up, and yes, my peers can never fully understand this part of my history the way I understand it. But how can anyone truly know me if I fail to share with them one of the most fundamental parts of who I am? Is that not one of the primary reasons we are all here— to learn from each other and know one another as people?

What do you think?

So in wrapping up this first column of the year, I’d like to humbly submit some advice to the Class of 2016, the students I already envy for their four years left at Duke to my two. Define, to the very best of your ability, the aspects of your character that you cherish, that you seek to protect and that you will never let anything at college undo. Who, deep down, are you? Who, deep down, are you not? Duke and your peers are going to push you in many different directions— countless good directions, and countless bad. Some parts of your identity will fall to the wayside, and rightfully so. But figure out the principles and convictions that must be impregnable, unwavering and set in stone.

What do you think?

When you have done this, walk this campus proudly. Know that others might merely wear masks, but you are who you are. Because sometimes age-old adages that have long since morphed into clichés, spouted by the supposed “fools” of Shakespearean literature, are the most valuable pieces of wisdom anyone can ever embrace: “This above all: to thine own self be true. And it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.”